


No promises, no demands

by musterings



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: A bit of Cor introspection, Bad Advice, Cor & Nameless Original Male Character, Fluff, Gen, Getting Together, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Not really the main point though, Pre-Relationship, Relationship Advice, brotherhood era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:48:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25895437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musterings/pseuds/musterings
Summary: "Love, Gladiolus," Cor began. Suddenly self conscious under Gladio's eager scrutiny, he continued, the words stumbling out of his mouth, "love— it's like a battlefield."“Love’s a bit strong of a word,” Gladio blurted out. He rubbed the back of his neck. "And anyway, that sounds familiar."When getting his feelings through to Ignis seems a lost cause, Gladio turns to Cor for advice.Written for the kink meme prompt:The one in which Cor's relationship advice is a disaster zone.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 7
Kudos: 54





	No promises, no demands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shepherd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shepherd/gifts).



> this is a very belated birthday fic for shep!! thank you for all the gladnis you've blessed this fandom with! your work's always been some of my favourites for this ship (and honestly, also your cor stuff) and i really wanted to give something back in return. it's a bit different to what I normally do (namely, cor) so I hope I've done him justice.

“Just the usual for you then Marshal?” the man behind the bakery’s display counters had said. He pushed back a few strands of hair to behind his ear, leading Cor’s gaze to the faint lines in the corner of the man’s eyes as he gave Cor the same warm smile that always came with Cor’s plain, black coffee. _Why not just fix yourself something in the tearoom, sir?_ Monica once asked, but with what little luxuries Cor ever allowed himself, there was something to be said about indulging in the richness of a properly made cup.

“Yes, thank you,” Cor said. 

“Anyone would love to have a customer like you,” said the man with an airy laugh as he fixed Cor his coffee, covering it tightly with a lid before placing it on the collection counter. Cor took it in hand while the man pulled out a plain croissant from the display cabinet with a pair of tongs, and slipped it into a paper bag. He handed it to Cor. “Simple and easy to remember. Makes my job a breeze.”

Cor cleared his throat as he tucked the paper bag under his arm, heat creeping up his neck. “I don’t do it deliberately.” 

The man gave another laugh. From beside Cor, Monica cast him a blank gaze that Cor ignored. Deliberately.

“Well I hope you can come make my job a breeze this afternoon too, Marshal. One less thing to think about during the lunch rush,” he smiled, wider this time. “Doesn’t have to be deliberate.”

All Cor could do was nod and grunt a small thanks as he exited the bakery, ready to head back to the Citadel. Monica knew better than to ask.

***

“Is there anything else?” asked Cor. Lunch had been pleasant, energising him through the last few drills of the afternoon. He was never one to buy his meals daily, preferring the convenience and the cost-effective method of making and freezing his lunches weeks in advance, but there was also something to be said about buying something hot and freshly made, and the friendly smile that accompanied it.

From the training mat on the floor, Gladio laid on his back, raising one arm with a wave to signal for life.

“No sir,” the young man grunted, “no further questions.”

“Then you’re dismissed,” said Cor. Assured that there were no surprise attacks coming from Gladiolus, he relaxed, reaching over to a bench to grab his towel and wipe the sweat off his face. Gladio tended to resort to such tactics in his desperation, but he seemed to lack the energy to pull off anything unpredictable. Though if Cor were to be frank, Gladiolus seemed to lack any energy this afternoon altogether. Should he give another poor showing the following day Cor would need to have a stern word, but Cor himself was just as exhausted, and was itching to get out of his sweat-soaked training clothes and into a warm shower to soothe his sore muscles. A lecture from him would drain them both. 

“There is one thing,” said Gladiolus, cutting through their silence. He sat up, crossing his legs under him on the mat. 

“What is it?”

Gladiolus tore his cap off his head and ran one hand through his hair drenched in sweat. Cor frowned. Discussions about the length of Gladiolus’s hair had gone nowhere the past few months, and considering how the back was beginning to cover the nape of his neck, Clarus hadn’t gotten through to him either. “It’s not somethin’ I can talk to anyone about. Not Dad— well— not anyone really.”

Cor pursed his lips in thought. Stubborn as Gladiolus may be, he was also loyal and trustworthy. He must really be in trouble.

"Is it illegal?" Cor attempted as he sat beside Gladio on the training mat. 

To Cor's dismay, Gladiolus pulled his face in confusion. 

"I… don't know?" 

"Well if you're not sure it's better we clarify here and now before we have to get you out of hot water later." 

"Wait it isn't anything bad—" Gladio paused. "I think?" 

Cor sat himself on the mat in front of Gladio. "Out with it."

Gladio grasped onto his crossed ankles, and let out an exhale through his nose. He opened his mouth, shut it again, then rubbed the back of his neck. Cor raised an eyebrow, then finally, Gladio choked out, "there's— there's someone I like." 

Cor frowned. His stomach tightened, no longer settled from his light and pleasant lunch. "And why are you going to _me_ about this?" 

“You know who it is,” said Gladio hesitantly. He grasped onto his cap in his hands. “So you’d know more about them, and— I dunno where else to go,” he said meekly.

Cor let out a heavy sigh.

"Who is it then?" Though Cor had little way of experience in the realm of romance, Cor was and always has been, an astute reader of people. There were a few Crownsguard in mind who could potentially attract the kind of young man Gladiolus was. Sharp women—Cor had only ever overheard locker room gossip of the women in Gladiolus’s life, wont as he was to avoid it—in tongue and in wit. The kind that won’t back down from Gladiolus’s headstrong and stubborn attitude. 

Gladio fidgeted with the cap in his hands, wringing it so tightly the front had no hope of bouncing back to shape. He cleared his throat, then said, "You tutor Ignis a couple of times a week yeah?" 

"And? What of it?" Cor asked, confused with the sudden tangent in conversation.

"You know how I like guys right?" said Gladio, his expression searching, as if waiting for a reaction.

_Oh._

It seems Cor wasn’t all that adept of a reader of people at all.

"I've heard… some things," said Cor. 

"Well there it is then. I like dudes."

“ _Dudes_ ,” Cor slowly repeated, the word foreign on his tongue, “specifically—”

“Ignis,” said Gladio, cap all but crushed in his hands. “I really like Iggy.”

“I see,” said Cor, never mind that he really didn’t. “And where exactly do I come in?

“I need help gettin’ through to him. None of what I normally do works.”

“What you normally do?”

“Flirting with him goes way over his head. I don’t think he’s realised I’ve taken him on, how many dates now?” Gladio picked at a frayed bit of thread on the hem of his hoodie. “Y’know, the usual stuff.” 

No. Cor did not know. “I think I see what you mean.”

“I even gave him presents both for his birthday _and_ Valentine’s day, and he _still_ didn’t get it.”

“What did you get him?”

“Books I really liked that he might like too?”

“That’s hardly practical,” said Cor with a grimace. 

“Uh, that’s the point?” said Gladio, scratching the top of his head. “So maybe I should just come clean. Tell him how I feel, straight up.”

“You sound like you know what you’re doing then,” said Cor. Ignis was a straightforward young man after all. “I’m not quite sure what you need from me, I’m not running a dating agency.”

“No, well not really,” Gladio interrupted. “I have no idea what I'm doing. Not with Iggy,” he added, his voice softened into an almost mumble. It was uncommon for Cor to see, accustomed to Gladio’s fiery temper in the training halls, frustrated from his constant string of losses until he eventually would find an opening he could exploit, its discovery borne from pure determination and spars against Cor or his father that ran for hours. All Cor could see now were Gladio’s shoulders slumped down in defeat, barely any fight in his eyes.

“Can’t ask my Dad, ‘cus I dunno if he’ll approve. He’ll say it’s a _distraction_ for Iggy. Can’t ask Noct, ‘cus, obviously, it’s _Noct_ . Iggy’s normally the guy I ask for help in times like this,” said Gladio quietly. “You’re the only other person I could think of—” Gladio snapped his head back up, eyes narrowing in skepticism. “You _are_ cool with it right?”

Cor pinched the bridge of his nose. It was hardly any of his business where someone’s preferences lay, and it shouldn’t be anyone else’s either. Should anyone deign and make it so with Gladio or any of his friends for that matter, they would have a very unhappy Cor Leonis to cross swords with. The matter of it being feelings for a colleague—Cor trusted the boys to understand the separation of private and professional life. And they’d heard enough spiels on duty as it was.

In short, yes. Cor was indeed “cool” with it.

“Of course,” Cor huffed, crossing his arms across his chest. “Now, back to the issue at hand.”

Gladio blinked, eyes lighting up in hope.

"You seem to care greatly for Ignis." 

A flush washed over Gladio's face, before he managed a slow nod. 

"Love, Gladiolus," Cor began. Suddenly self conscious under Gladio's eager scrutiny, he continued, the words stumbling out of his mouth, "love— it's like a battlefield."

“Love’s a bit strong of a word,” Gladio blurted out. He rubbed the back of his neck. "And anyway, that sounds familiar."

"Pay attention," Cor snapped. "At times like these, you don't reveal your hand to the opponent."

Gladio scratched his chin, brows drawn in intense focus, as if they were back in the middle of a sparring ring. “Go on.”

"It's simple. You don’t have all the information. Reconnaissance first, then when the moment is right, that's when you strike." 

"That sounds... aggressive.”

“It’s a metaphor.”

“I dunno, I never knew you used metaphors,” Gladio grumbled back.

“In any case, you keep approaching him. But he isn’t responding as you hope.”

Gladio nodded slowly.

“You’re stifling his space.”

Gladio knit his eyebrows in worry. “I am?” 

“Ignis is very reserved. And _you’re_ overeager, I’d imagine your presence is both overwhelming and intimidating.”

“Yeah, I think you might be right about that.” Gladio looked positively crestfallen. But it was better he heard from someone who knew him well than anyone else. Let alone Ignis. “So what should I do?”

“Simple. When a frontal attack is ineffective, then consider lying in wait, until he comes to you, and then—”

“That’s when I ambush him.”

Cor pursed his lips. That _did_ sound aggressive.

“Not exactly. During this time is when you do your information gathering. Find out how he feels about you,”—Gladio winced in pain—“but you must do this, _without_ revealing your feelings and intentions. Stay on the defensive. That part is the most important—it’s as good as leaving an opening in a fight.”

Gladio nodded resolutely. 

They were getting somewhere with this.

“Okay, I think I know what to do now,” a small smile finally appeared on Gladio’s face as he brought himself to stand up on his feet. “Thanks Marshal.”

“Anytime,” Cor said with a confident huff. 

***

For about a week, Cor watched as Gladio and Ignis clocked in and out of the training halls, going through their drills and exercises. There didn’t seem to be any changes in their behaviour, from what little of their conversation he could catch, although he did feel a jolt of pride watching Gladio dart out of a hasty exchange from Ignis as soon as a joint training session wrapped up. 

If anything else, the kid had always been good at executing orders. 

It wasn’t until another week later where Cor eventually realised that perhaps, Gladio was _too_ good at them.

Cor had made his way to the showers and locker rooms after dismissing his batch of recruits, only to find the hallway leading into the locker rooms was congested with them, milling about and leading to some sort of ring around one of the lockers.

“Could you just let me through—” Cor attempted to say over their heads, until a loud voice, clear and dignified, echoed against the locker room tiles. 

“Are you a coward Gladiolus? Is that it?” said the same familiar voice, and Cor had never heard it sound so bloodthirsty.

In the middle of the ring of spectators, Ignis stood, facing Gladio, whose back was turned away from him, seemingly engrossed with the contents of his locker. 

“What are you talking about? I told you it’s none of your business,” said Gladio.

“It’s not none of my business when you’ve pulled out of every training session we’ve scheduled together last week,” Ignis bit back.

“It’s just a couple of sessions,” said Gladio with a noncommittal shrug. “I can make time for more later. Why’ssat such a problem?”

“I cleared that space for you _months_ in advance. I will not have you play _truant_ , when how well we work together in battle may be the very determining factor that can put our lives and the lives of our comrades at stake. And until you tell me what exactly is so important that it’s worth cancelling our sessions for, then I will not let go of this issue.”

That was one factor Cor had failed to account for—Ignis’s intensity.

“I’ll get by just fine,” said Gladio, still refusing to turn around and meet Ignis’s gaze, “I’m a busy guy. I know you need the extra training to keep up with me, but I’m sure you can find some small fry that’s more on your level.”

 _Stay on the defensive_ , was what Cor said, not _this._ This was outright direct aggression.

Something in Ignis seemed to snap, too suddenly for Cor to react in time. Ignis has always been cool and levelheaded, even from the first moment he has had to endure the jeers of his peers. Luckily a recruit held Ignis back before he could pounce, and Cor took this as his cue.

“What is going on in here?” Cor shouted over the din of recruits. His authority was something he very rarely lorded over the recruits outside of the training halls, but it was exactly what he needed to cease the growing hubbub of their amused crowd. He strode in and planted himself between Gladio, and Ignis’s sharp glare.

Ignis relaxed in his captor’s grip, before wrenching himself free from the poor sod who was only trying to help. Meanwhile, Gladio feigned complete obliviousness both to Ignis’s violent reaction and Cor’s demand for answers, slinging his bag over one shoulder and turning away without so much as a glance at Ignis to shove his way out of the locker rooms.

It seemed Ignis had more to say, but one glance from Cor was enough for Ignis press his lips closed into a thin line, his glare directed at the floor as he strode out of the locker room’s hallway.

“Ignis,” Cor said sternly. He crossed his arms, a strain beginning to tug at his temples. This wasn’t a tone of voice he never thought he’d ever have to use on Ignis of all people. “To my office.”

***

“What was that?” Cor asked as soon as Ignis shut the door behind them. He sat down in his seat, exhaustion setting in. “That’s not at all anything I would expect from you.”

Ignis standing in front of his desk wasn’t exactly an unfamiliar image for Cor, the boy had enough authority to need to report various matters of import to the Marshal, but not with his head hung, shoulders slumped, awaiting a reprimanding that was mostly reserved for the unruly types of the guard.

Cor rubbed the spot between his eyes with a thumb. How could one instruction go so wrong?

“I let my frustration get the better of me,” said Ignis, his voice small. He turned to leave. “My apologies. It won’t happen again.” 

Cor raised an eyebrow. "I think I at least deserve an explanation.”

“There really isn’t anything to explain, sir,” said Ignis.

“You and Gladio will be in places of great responsibility one day, not to mention, in places of responsibility working closely _together_ ,” said Cor. 

Ignis’s expression twisted, as if conflicted. 

“I should think I deserve an explanation of anything that may affect that,” Cor added.

Ignis stepped closer. With an exhale, his shoulders slumped further. 

“Gladiolus—” Ignis began. “It just didn’t make sense for him to suddenly cancel our scheduled time together like that, without any explanation. If he were busy, or weren’t feeling up to it, I knew he’d tell me. He’s not one to be so _secretive_.” 

“So you question his commitment?”

“Absolutely not,” Ignis snapped back. His gaze was hard again, only now finally meeting Cor’s. “I could never fault that.”

“So what exactly is your problem then?” said Cor. “There’s always next time. And friends or not, you’re not entitled to knowing _everything_ that’s going on in Gladio’s life.”

“Well no— of course not,” said Ignis. “That might just be it. He doesn’t owe me anything.” He deflated again. “I mean, he barely chooses to spend any time with me as it is. Maybe he’s trying to tell me something.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“But that’s wholly irrelevant. The fact of the matter is, Gladiolus led me to believe he had _some_ semblance of respect for my time and for me as a person,” Ignis paused and he let out an exhale. “He was always so open about what my friendship meant to him.” The words came out stern, but he added, much softer, “That was always one of the things I liked about him.”

_Oh._

Ignis snapped his mouth shut, as if he had said too much, and said nothing more. 

This was way out of Cor’s depth. 

With decades of studying and enacting military strategies he’d been poring over since he was younger than even Ignis, his advice should have been sound. 

Cover your weaknesses. Wait for your opponent to expose their own, all to protect you from getting hurt. But he had failed to anticipate the opponent's pain, when Gladio's weapon finally lodged and twisted itself in there. Nor how Gladio’s opponent would launch a counteroffensive. 

“I understand,” said Cor, although he still didn’t at all.

“I should get going,” said Ignis. He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm from under his glasses. His voice came out cracked. “My apologies again for my behaviour—I’ll endeavour to make up for it in my future sessions. Until tomorrow.”

Before Cor could come up with anything else to fix this new development, Ignis turned on his heel and left.

***

Information would always be one of the most important weapons in any strategists’s arsenal. With new information came adaptation and follow-up.

But at this point, Cor was too cowardly to enact anything further. 

To admit that he knew nothing would have been the wisest course of action, and instead, he had thrown the boys in the middle of a stalemate, with neither making any move to make amends. He should be the one to set matters straight, and yet—what if he only muddled their matters further? They were both smart, logical and driven—it was likely they would sort their issues out themselves. 

Their steely glares in the training halls—in sessions where Cor had pulled the strings to get them into together— that is, if they weren’t avoiding each other’s gazes altogether, put that hopeful theory to rest. 

There was an underlying aggression in all of Ignis’s movements that would surely end up with most of the Crownsguard’s new recruits in the infirmary this week alone. Strangely enough Gladio was in poor form. His movements were half-hearted and sluggish, and he lost far too many match-ups that Cor purely created to teach some big-headed recruit a lesson. Any worse and his father might just catch wind of Gladio’s performance, and his wounded ego would be another thing to add to the list of casualties to Cor’s ignorance.

At fifteen, Cor Leonis could summon the bravado and mettle to fell the spectre of a millenia old swordsman. He was younger than Ignis and Gladio were now, as they contended with a far more fickle beast. And from failing to conquer it, Noctis would grow up with the most strained of relationships between his miserable retainers, and it would all be because of Cor’s stubborn pride. 

He needed to recoup his losses and rethink his plan. Quick.

***

“Instant coffee today?” said Monica, her tone lilting and curious. She was the only other person in their floor’s kitchenette, being one of the two people, the other being Cor, to get into the office earlier than the rest of staffers on their floor.

Cor looked up from the mug of darkened liquid he was stirring on the counter. “Buying a cup every day adds up.”

“Hmm,” said Monica. She nodded slowly as she leaned her hip against the counter, her own takeaway cup from the familiar bakery around the corner in her hand. "I'll have your report over to you before ten. Do let me know if there's anything else I can do," she said, making to return to her desk. 

Cor swallowed a lump down his throat. He had agonised for days of a way he could drag Gladio and Ignis back together, watching the boys wallow around the Citadel eating at him from inside. He had to face it. He couldn’t keep operating under this constant fog of uncertainty, at least not alone. 

"There is something," he said carefully.

"Oh?"

"It’s. It's a personal issue."

Her interest seemingly piqued, she sat herself on one of the kitchenette's chairs, and angled her gaze up at Cor, who remained standing by the kitchenette counter with his plain white mug of plain black coffee.

"Please continue sir." 

"Let's say a friend came to you for advice,” said Cor.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Your friend tells you that there's someone he feels… How do I say this.”

“Yes?”

“Feelings. He feels feelings for someone. Someone he sees regularly. But he doesn’t know how to articulate it.”

Monica nodded solemnly and took a sip of her coffee. “Okay.”

“What would you tell your friend?” Cor finally asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?” said Monica incredulously, “I mean, sir. You tell them.”

Cor was taken aback. “Why would you just tell them?”

“How else would the other party know?” 

“I know that, but, why would you just do that without considering the consequences first?”

“The consequences?”

“It could strain their regular day-to-day interaction. It can change their current relationship as we know it.”

“Well then, sir, what would _you_ tell your friend?”

Cor paused, his mug in hand. It was almost deceptive framing his mistakes in this way but he needed to know where we went wrong.

“To hold out until they know for sure,” said Cor as-a-matter-of-factly, “don’t let any of your true feelings show, lest they be turned against you. You’re as well versed in military strategy as I am, I’m sure. You know the importance of reconnaissance.”

Monica broke out into an uncharacteristic giggle.

“With all due respect sir,” said Monica as she stifled her laughter. She cleared her throat and continued. “Your _friend_ isn’t up against an opponent here.”

“But someone could get hurt,” Cor attempted to argue. 

“That is always true,” she said, swirling the contents of her cup. “Showing your weaknesses is always frightening, but that’s the only way you can ever truly know someone.” She idly opened the jar between them, and picked out a biscuit, surveying it before taking a dainty bite. “And that’s not something you’d ever seek out from an opponent isn’t it?”

Cor looked down at his mug of watered down instant coffee. His ears burned under Monica’s bemused gaze. “I suppose you’re right.”

"He was looking for you this morning." 

"Huh? Who was?" Cor said, idly stirring the contents of his mug, his mind already racking itself for a plan to sort out the mess he put the boys in.

"The gentleman who runs the bakery at the end of the block," said Monica calmly, her smile serene. 

“Why would he be?” Cor began, until the heat in his ears crept up to the rest of his face. “I wasn’t— That advice wasn’t— I wasn’t asking for me!” Cor spluttered.

“We weren’t?” asked Monica innocently.

“No, no, absolutely not, it’s Gladio and Ignis!” Cor blurted out, unaware his voice was raised until he noticed the puzzled look on Monica’s face. He exhaled, lowered his voice and continued, “Gladio came to me for help with his— _feelings_ for Ignis. I told him to hold back and now Ignis has taken it the wrong way.”

“Ah, was that what the fight in the training halls was about the other week?”

“That’s the one,” Cor took a swig of his coffee, which managed to be both overly bitter and watered down at the same time. He let out a heavy sigh. “That was all my doing.”

Monica hummed in thought. “So what did you tell Gladio?”

Cor rubbed the space between his eyes. “I told him love was a battlefield," he mumbled. 

Monica could barely suppress her dignified snort.

"It was on the radio on my drive into work that morning, it just slipped out.” Cor grumbled. 

“You know what to do now though, don’t you Marshal?” 

Cor rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. “Step aside and let them figure everything out themselves?”

“On the contrary, I can’t think of anyone better suited to nudge them back in the right direction.” Monica rose from her seat patting Cor's shoulder as she left the kitchenette and its one confused occupant. 

***

Try as Cor might to wish it so, the matter hadn’t resolved itself by the following day, and so he had no other choice but to pull himself up by the bootstraps and set matters to rights.

Right on schedule, he found Gladio with a boxed lunch under a tree in the Citadel’s courtyards, expression long and forlorn. Way to twist the knife. Gladio and Ignis had begun regularly having lunches together before Cor had royally screwed things up.

“Gladiolus.”

“Oh, hey,” said Gladio. He picked at the chicken breast in his lunchbox. At least his feelings haven’t gotten in the way of his protein intake.

“Can I sit?”

“Uh, yeah?” said Gladio, perplexed. It wasn’t often Cor had ever been seen enjoying any of his breaks out in the sun. Or enjoying much of anything, really.

“How are things with Ignis?” said Cor.

“You saw what happened in the locker rooms last week.”

“You know, I only told you to be more...guarded. Not to be so aggressive.”

“I know, I overdid it. But that’s just it. I couldn’t do it. Anytime I spend with Iggy, I can’t help but—” Gladio sighed. He finished picking at his food and instead opted to seal it back up.

_Now Gladio was skipping meals. You’ve really done it this time Leonis._

“—I can’t help but be me, y’know?”

“So…you spent less time with him.”

“Yeah. Then maybe I wouldn’t act like such an idiot around him and actually do what you said. I fucked that up, didn’t I?”

Love, warfare—they weren’t the only things Cor had conflated. 

Decades of military experience—that was what Cor had on Gladiolus. Decades spent alone, his comrades his closest companions. Fearless enough to challenge the Blademaster himself, but nowhere near enough to venture past the comfortable walls of his established circle. They already knew everything there was to know about him. There was no need for that long and painful process, one he had attempted and failed a few times to endure, of slowly opening yourself up to someone, someone who may or may not leave you behind with pain that lingered longer than flesh wounds ever could. 

Decades of military experience, Cor did indeed have—along with decades of missed chances, words left unsaid, and feelings that never saw the light of day. 

It was the only arena Gladio could best him in. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong. “ Cor crossed his arms. “In fact, you did what I instructed all too well, kid.”

Gladio let out a puff of air in frustration. “Iggy hates me now.”

“Exactly,” said Cor. Gladio turned towards him, puzzled. “My advice was _shit._ ”

Gladio barked out a laugh at his informality, but Cor cleared his throat.

“I was wrong,” said Cor. “Just between you and me, I’m not too well versed in these matters.”

“Really?” Gladio choked out.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been with people," said Cor defensively. "I just never seemed to be able to keep them.”

“Uh, why are you tellin’ me this?”

“One: you asked, and two: I now see one reason _why_.”

“I wish I never asked,” Gladio muttered, his chin propped up on one hand. “But when you’re here, you’re here listening to why your boss’s relationships never worked out. So y’know what, tell me.”

“Trust me, I wish I wasn’t having this conversation either,” Cor scoffed. He glanced at a distant spot in the wall, Gladio's curious gaze boring through him. “You say whatever’s on your mind. It’s gotten you into trouble plenty of times, I know,” he added, to which Gladio let out a humph. “But it’s also something to admire you for. If I had even a portion of the courage you had to approach me about your feelings for Ignis, well, I wouldn't have put you into this mess to begin with.”

“Admiration ain’t exactly what I’d call what Iggy had for me the other day,” Gladio said, his voice glum. He glanced at Cor, then roughly ran his hand through his scruffy hair. Cor really did need to have a conversation about combat-appropriate haircuts. “I dunno if there's any fixing things. Iggy’s been pissed at me all week.”

“Try talking to him again, _but_ do it the way you would do it. No underhanded tactics, certainly no _ambushes,_ ” said Cor, inwardly cringing at repeating his own words. “After all, you managed to get him to like you _without_ my help just fine.”

“I just—” Gladio snapped around to face him, his expression incredulous. “Wait, what?”

“Go and find out for yourself. He’ll hear you out.”

Gladio paused. Then with a resolute nod, he tucked his lunchbox under his arm, and briskly strode out of the courtyard. 

***

“Hey Ignis!” Gladio yelled out from the middle of the courtyard, loud and bright, a wide grin on his face.

“Gladio,” said Ignis politely. He didn’t even protest nor make any move to remove the arm that Gladio slung over his shoulder, and it stayed there even as they crossed the threshold and past the double doors of the training halls.

One week and Cor’s updated advice—that was, his advice _not_ to follow his advice—was already delivering results. All back to rights as before. If Gladio’s gazes were a smidge too lovestruck and lasted longer than they should, almost as long as Ignis’s friendly and supportive touches on Gladio's shoulder between drills, then that was their business and no one else’s.

***

The bell jingled as the door to the bakery swung closed behind Cor, and his nose was assaulted with the scent of freshly ground coffee and baked bread. 

“Ah, Marshal,” said Monica, already standing by the collection counter where she waited with other customers for order. “I didn’t expect to see you out and about for lunch.”

“I didn’t feel like bringing anything in today,” Cor said simply, as he queued up behind one of the many office workers that packed within the bakery during the city’s universal lunch hours. Just past the front counter, the man at the till caught Cor’s eye and flashed him a bright smile.

“The boys have been in a better mood the past few days,” said Monica. 

“They better be,” said Cor. “If they were going to mope any longer, I would’ve had to spell everything out for them instead.”

“So you’ve figured it out then.”

“Figured what out?” Cor asked. The queue moved up a few patrons, and Cor moved up too.

“It’s okay to be afraid of getting hurt, you know. Sometimes it might just be worth the consequences.”

“I never said _I_ was afraid,” Cor grunted.

“Neither did I,” Monica said innocently. “I meant the boys.”

Before Cor could get another word in, the customer in front of Cor moved aside to the collection counter, behind the other waiting patrons and Cor stepped up to the counter, but not without casting Monica what he hoped was an intimidating glare. 

“It’s good to see you again, Marshal,” said the man behind the counter, his smile even brighter than it was when Cor was further down the queue. “What can I get you today?”

“Just the usual,” Cor said, “And just Cor’s fine."

**Author's Note:**

> for people who don't know what cor or I was talking about (and where the title of the fic comes from), please listen to [this classic pat benatar song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IGVZOLV9SPo)
> 
> as always I appreciate all kudos and comments and for taking the time to read really! you can always find me [@musterings1](https://twitter.com/musterings1) if you ever want to watch me avoid writing


End file.
